


One Shot Collection

by writing_crocodiles



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:30:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_crocodiles/pseuds/writing_crocodiles
Summary: This is a collection of one-shot prompts that I answered on Tumblr.I hope you enjoy; if you have a prompt please submit here:https://writing-crocodiles.tumblr.com/ask





	1. Belle and Gideon

**Author's Note:**

> little-inkstone said to writing-crocodiles:
> 
> Prompt: "No, Gideon, you can't have a real live dinosaur for your birthday, I don't care what Papa says."

This was not the response the soon-to-be four year old was looking for. Suddenly disgruntled, he screwed his face up, trying to think of another argument he could give his mother besides “Papa said I could”. That one rarely worked anyway, but he continued to try it, just in case a miracle happened. 

As they walked he dragged his feet, kicking rocks on the sidewalk so they tumbled away ahead of them. He tugged at her hand a bit, almost subconsciously.

Belle was very much used to this by now and let him do so. She had her mind on other things, mostly the grey day that blustered around them as they strolled down Mainstreet. They were on their way to the library. Belle had refused the ride Rumple had offered, thinking it was going to be a beautiful morning and they wouldn’t need the coats that she had so meticulously dressed her and her son in. Now that they were actually out in the bitter weather, however, she was glad she had bundled them up. 

Her gaze fell back to the sidewalk beside her where her son was still pouting. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew the gears were still turning in his mind and her lips curled into a smile. What a wonder that this tiny human could think so hard about something. 

She was about to look away when his head snapped up and he looked straight into her eyes. A smug look shadowed him, and Belle prepared herself for the newest argument for a dinosaur. 

“How come Neal gets a dinosaur, but I can’t?”

It took everything she had not to giggle at him, “Neal has a dinosaur?”

Gideon knew it hadn’t worked and went back to pouting, “Yeah…” he muttered. 

“Okay,” Belle said, playing along, “where does he keep it? I didn’t think Snow and David had any room for a dinosaur.”

“It’s in his room,” the boy said, “in a cage. His name’s Ralph.”

“Ah,” Belle said, the truth dawning on her. She knew from Snow that Ralph was in fact a salamander Neal Nolan had received for his last birthday. 

A dinosaur- no.

A salamander could possibly be a yes, though. 

“If Papa and I got you a dinosaur,” Belle started slowly, “would you want it to be like Neal’s?”

Hope shone in Gideon’s eyes as his entire demeanor brightened. He nodded furiously up at her and she couldn’t help a smile.

“Then maybe you can get a real live dinosaur for your birthday after all.”


	2. Golden Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little-inkstone said to writing-crocodiles:
> 
> I know this is much later then planned (I'm so sorry!) but if you're still taking prompts I'd love to see some Golden Lace! How about the prompt: "You're not really drunk, are you?"

Lacey wasn’t actually drunk, but she knew it would be beneficial if she let him think she was. She slid her hands up his lapel and around his neck, clasping them together in his hair and letting out a sigh that was borderline orgasmic. 

“Why,” she whispered, “do I seem like I need a drink?”

Her breath smelled like whisky, and Rumple knew she had gotten into the bottle he kept in his the back room cabinet for “emergencies”. She looked him up and down, scanning him with her eyes and biting her lip. 

Rumple felt his heart- well, not so much flutter, but something along those lines. Lacey brought one hand down and started to play with his tie, pulling it out of his vest. He wanted to give into her. He had this beautiful woman pressed up against him, why was he hesitating?

“What’s wrong?” Lacey said, tugging him by his tie as she backed up to the counter. She hopped up and sat on it before giving him a shy smile. He swallowed and wet his lips, not knowing what to do from here. That’s when she yanked him between her legs. Surprised, he slammed his hands onto either side of her to brace himself. Still intent on getting what she wanted, Lacey leaned into him, keeping a hold on his tie- almost as if it was a leash. He continued gazing directly to the left of her, hoping that his lack of eye contact would deter her. 

The truth was he could feel he needed this… this fit of desire that she was presenting. He needed someone to care about him. He needed someone that wanted to love him. He had a feeling that this woman couldn’t give him that, but there was still the underlying reason he wasn’t pushing her away. He needed something… physical. He needed to put aside anything that was getting in his way and give in to carnality.

Her lips met his and she inhaled sharply through her nose. Three beats, then she drew back. He had enjoyed it, to say the least, and could feel energy buzzing in the air surrounding them. 

‘This isn’t Belle, though,’ a voice in his head muttered maliciously, ‘She isn’t….’ 

She touched noses with him, not wanting the electricity to fizzle. Although, at the same time she was getting frustrated. What was his deal? It couldn’t be anything to do with her. She was throwing herself to his mercy. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, but the question was entirely obligatory. Maybe if she heard him out they could get past this nonsense and get to the fun part. 

Rumple, however, heard Belle in that question and felt a small part of himself break. His pulse quickened slightly and he looked her straight in the eyes. Those blue, crystalline eyes that were begging him to trust her. His entire being relaxed.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said calmly.

“Well, then I don’t see what the problem is,” she said, tilting her head to the side. 

And with that the flicker of Belle was gone. 

He didn’t object when she kissed him again. Two loud clunks alerted him to her heels falling and hitting the hardwood. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tucked her hands under his jacket collar, helping him remove it. He let her do so and it dropped to the floor. 

Falling to the heat of passion, Rumple trailed away from her mouth and left a path of kisses along her jaw before moving down to her neck. 

She fumbled with his tie and managed to slip it from around his neck; she held it tight in her hand she threw her arms around him. Eyes closed in ecstasy, she pulled him closer so they were plastered against each other. He moved his hands to her back, tangling his fingers in the criss-cross pattern on her dress. 

“Perhaps we should move to the back room?” Rumple’s words were somewhere between a growl and a whisper. 

“The ‘Closed’ sign is up,” Lacey replied simply, not wanting to stop for even a second.

Rumple moved back to her face, their lips interlocking again, he pulled back a bit to catch his breath and she did the same, “Nobody in this town pays attention to my ‘Closed’ sign.”

A devious smile curled her lips as she thought of the half-empty bottle of whisky she had left on the table, “Hmmm… Back room it is, then.”


	3. Rumple and Gideon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woodelf68 said writing-crocodiles:
> 
> Prompt: Little Gideon comes home clutching a stray puppy that he's rescued and wants to know if he can keep him.

While everyone else was at school, 8 year old Gideon Gold was frantically searching in the back of his father’s shop. Cupboards were flapping and the contents inside each was urgently, yet carefully, moved around. He had gotten down on his knees and was feeling under a cabinet for the “secret” compartment when he heard his father’s voice. 

“Gideon?”

In the manner of a child that had found himself caught in a bad situation, Gideon shot straight up. He whipped around and clasped his hands behind his back, meeting his father with what he hoped was an innocent smile. 

Rumplestiltskin stood holding back the curtain that served as a door to the back of the shop. Needless to say, he was surprised to see the young boy. After all, Gideon was supposed to be at school. The Dark One blinked at his son for a bit, waiting for him to maybe give an excuse. When he didn’t say anything, Rumple prodded.

“What are you doing here?”

Gideon wasn’t sure how to start this interaction, so he vomited words that went a little like:

“Papa, you know how mama hates you using magic and I kind of want to learn magic, but every time I bring it up mama immediately shuts it down even though she is always saying you and I need to spend more time together and then she leaves the room after you agree, but you just wink at me and say ‘when you’re older’?”

Rumple felt his eyebrows furrow as this long stream of words came to an end. An unseen clock filled the sudden silence, ticking away. He wanted to know what was going on and he felt he may not get the full story from Gideon. A small interrogation was necessary. 

Instead he said, “Yes…?”

Gideon was off again, “I want to learn a healing spell because I know someone who needs it and it shouldn’t matter because healing magic is light magic, right? So-”

“Wait, Gideon, slow down,” Rumple cut him off and walked forward, “who’s hurt?”

Gideon was quiet, thinking yet again whether or not he should say, he finally muttered “He’s outside,” and jerked his head to the back door.

“You didn’t bring him inside?” Rumple said in disbelief, moving to the door. Gideon didn’t try to stop him and followed his father into the alley behind the shop. 

“I didn’t know if you would want him inside!”

Rumple turned on his heel back to his son, “Why wouldn’t I want him inside? You’re making no sense, son.”

Gideon rolled his eyes slightly and walked to the fence that ran parallel to the businesses. A cardboard box stood solemnly by a post, looking downright depressing. Rumple watched as Gideon reached in and took out a small black lump. The younger male walked back to his father, holding the limp form close to his chest. 

“He’s hurt, papa,” he opened up a bit so Rumple could see the tiny figure was actually a puppy. It was small, shivering, helpless, and he could see the problem immediately: a relatively big gash ran along its side, oozing blood. 

The Dark One’s mouth was a flat line as he reached out, magic vibrated at his fingertips. He hovered his hand over the puppy’s body and closed the wound. The small animal’s breathing steadied and, after a couple moments, it woke up. Its amber eyes looked up to Gideon and its tongue lolled out of its mouth. It didn’t squirm, and Gideon found it amazing that magic could make hurt turn to happiness so fast. 

“Magic like that,” Gideon whispered suddenly, “I want magic like that.”

Rumple’s gaze flicked between his son and the puppy. The side of his face twitched, not knowing which emotion it should convey. They stayed in the alley for a bit, Rumple trying to figure out what to do and Gideon dodging the puppy’s tongue, a wide smile on his face. 

“Let’s go inside,” Rumple said, grabbing his son around the shoulders and steering him back to the shop, “we can set up a place for him and then get you back to school.” Then, more on an off-note, “I’ll have to stop by the pet store and get some toys and food.”

“Are you saying I can keep him?”

Rumple pulled a face and shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”


	4. Rumbelle (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to writing-crocodiles:
> 
> Here's a rumbelle prompt I'd love to see! "It's bigger then I thought it would be, are you sure it'll fit?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned and stood back; he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at it, “I don’t know. I think it should.”

Belle came to stand next to him and looped her arm through his, “You know, it’s okay if it doesn’t,” she leaned her head on his shoulder, “we can go get another one.”

Rumple thought about it only for a second. Going to get a different one would certainly be easier to fit in, but at the same time he knew Belle was reluctant to have kept it in the move. If they went to get another one she would have gotten her way. She was thinking the same thing and was glad for it, this way she could get rid of it while still sparing his pride. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “this couch is the only thing I have left from our house in Storybrooke. If we get a different one, we’ll only have two couches. We’ll make it fit.”

His determination made her smile, “Well, as long as you’re on the case, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

As they both stood looking at the narrow front entrance of their new Philadelphia home, a small boy ran out into the sunlight. He stopped on the porch and looked at them with wide eyes, in his hands was a box of toys that looked rather heavy in the five-year-old’s arms.

“Mama?” He called.

“What do you need, Gideon?” Belle said, picking her head up off of her husband’s shoulder.

“You told me to put this in my room,” Gideon continued, yelling louder than necessary, “but I don’t know which room is my room.”

“Alright, baby, go inside and I’ll be right there,” Belle pecked Rumple on the cheek, “You’ll figure it out.”

“I’m amazed you think so,” he answered, still staring down the couch, “but since you’re always right, I’ll agree.”

Belle stopped herself from laughing and settled on a flirty smile, “As long as you remember that.”

Rumple now looked to her, his lips curled into a smile of his own, “Remember what? That I need to agree with you?”

“No,” Belle replied, “that I’m always right. I’m going to go help Gideon pick a room.”

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll be in after a bit.”

Rumple watched her walk into the house, hips swaying as she walked. She disappeared into the house and he raked his eyes back over the couch.

Right….

Time to figure something out.


	5. Rumbelle (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ripperblackstaff said to writing-crocodiles:
> 
> It's midnight, it's raining, and Belle craves mushrooms with a raspberry sauce.

Soft rain drummed on the roof, slipping down the windows of the large house and watering the small garden that lay in the backyard. It was one of those weird nights where the sky is clear yet water seems to come from nowhere. Almost as if someone is spraying a large hose into the air to make their own atmosphere. Due to such, the full moon was suspended in the air uncovered by clouds; its bright light shone through the window of Belle and Rumple’s bedroom. 

Rumple was sleeping soundly. Belle, however, was wide awake and staring blankly at the ceiling. She was uncomfortable and no matter which way she turned she couldn’t find the right position. Her hand drifted to her abdomen, it was fairly round by this point and she could feel movement. She rolled her eyes, knowing there was no one to see the exasperation she felt. She was so done with pregnancy and that was not good, considering she still had about two and a half months to go. 

She shifted she she was on her side, looking to Rumple. His back was to her and she could see his shoulder rise and fall with steady breaths. She wanted to cuddle, but knew her belly would stop her from getting close enough. A second of reflection led her to decide she was going to try anyway and moved to him until her bump touched his back. He woke slightly, giving a half-hearted glance behind him and, seeming to know what she wanted, turned over. He slipped his arm around her; his eyes had not opened as if he had only arrived at the edge of consciousness, but hadn’t fully accepted it. 

Belle touched her nose to his, only having to stretch her neck a little, to her surprise. A smile flitted across his lips.

“How long have you been awake?” Rumple whispered to her, his voice thick from sleep.

“It’s felt like hours,” she said, resting her head back on the pillow. 

“Mmmm-hmmm…” he muttered, eyes still closed, “is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she said. Then, after a thought, “I’m hungry.”

“I’m going to guess our baby is being demanding?” As he said it he pulled his arm back a bit until his hand was rested on her side.

“Yes,” Belle admitted. She took this moment to study his face. He still looked very tired and she knew the Charmings had required his help for the vast majority of the day. Knowing that family, they would probably do the same the next, as well. He looked so peaceful and she realized suddenly that she didn’t want to bother him.

It was about a minute later, when Belle thought he had fallen back to sleep, that he spoke again, “What does he want?”

“Mushrooms,” she said sheepishly, “in raspberry sauce.” She had been craving it all day, but had dismissed it.

Rumple gave a faint chuckle, “You hate mushrooms.”

“That’s why I’m going to drown them in raspberry sauce,” she countered. Her son gave a sharp kick, the small foot directly hitting where Rumple’s palm was. He moved his hand away completely and went to sit up.

“Alright,” he said through a sigh.

“Rumple,” she protested, grabbing his pajama sleeve, “I didn’t mean right now. I can get some tomorrow.”

He took a deep breath and laid back down; he kissed her delicately, “You want mushrooms with raspberry sauce?” 

“Yes,” Belle said, her voice small.

“Then let’s go make you mushrooms with raspberry sauce.”

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

A gentle smile appeared on his features, “I love you, too, Belle.”


	6. Rumbelle AU (slight angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to writing-crocodiles:
> 
> How about this for a rumbelle prompt? During the Black Fairy's curse Rumple isn't awake at first, so it's Mr. Gold that finds cursed!Belle in that house.

The police station was empty when Gold walked inside. He was careful as he walked forward. There was no reason to rush, and so he strode past the deputy’s desk into the main area of the room. Sheriff Dove would be back soon and he figured he could just wait for the young man to get back. He noticed the long bench that stretched under the high windows and briefly fancied the idea of sitting down, but he was too antsy. Even if he was okay with waiting for the sheriff, sitting would drive him out of his mind. He settled on pacing the floor of the station instead. 

Slow and deliberate steps allowed him to review the events of the day. 

That morning he and Gideon ate a small breakfast. They used the car to get to work, Gold had teased Gideon about getting his own house, Fiona had stopped by- the book- Henry- investigation- pictures-

Lies.

Even if Belle had left to go see the world, how would Fiona have gotten those pictures? Even if the pictures weren’t so obviously photoshopped, they appeared to be from Belle’s personal camera. So, what? She sends Fiona Christmas cards updating her on her travels?

No. Gold wasn’t an idiot. Fiona wanted to hide something.

And Belle-

He stopped himself and his hands turned into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Turning his gaze to the sheriff’s desk, encased in the glass box, he saw something that intrigued him. Laying on the keyboard of the old monitor, was a manilla folder. He stepped closer and as he reached the door his hand found its way to the golden handle. 

On the folder in blood red ink was stamped “Missing Person”. Then, in the same red, but smaller, scrawling cursive, was “Destroy immediately -F” 

He pulled on the door and it miraculously swung open. With short, choppy movements that still held an odd sense of fluidity, he entered and quickly closed the door behind him. 

The folder seemed ominous, like it would bite him if he got too close. He knew he shouldn’t look at it. It was a missing person file, though. It could be Belle’s, but he had never seen this before. Why hadn’t he seen this before?

He quickly checked down the hall to make sure Sheriff Dove wasn’t coming back and then opened the folder. A page of what looked like an official document lay inside. His heart rate sped up as his eyes grazed over the typed words in the “name” box. 

 

Belle Gold née French.

 

He scanned the page with cautious eyes, not wanting to miss a single detail. His hand stroked down the paper, running over old information. It included his address, Gideon’s information under “offspring”, his information under “spouse”, her-

His breath caught in his throat.

Her current address?

They knew where she was? Why hadn’t they-? Why?

Yet there it was: 

 

845 Nix Lane   
Storybrooke, Maine, USA

 

No, that couldn’t possibly be right. The town’s too small. If she was in Storybrooke he would have noticed her. She had to go to the grocery store sometime, didn’t she? 28 years hiding in plain sight? It seemed impossible, but if someone didn’t want to be found….

A sharp pain resonated in his chest, the feeling of the first realization she was gone still fresh in his mind. 

Baby Gideon wailing upstairs. 

Two empty bottles of whisky.

Midnight.

No note. 

He couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed for over a week after that. He knew, however, that he couldn’t pity himself for too long. He had a son to take care of. 

He removed his hand from the paper abruptly, almost as if it was what was giving his the bad memories. Without a final question he memorized the address, closed the manilla folder, set it back where he had found it, and left the police station.

He repeated the address over and over again in his head, visualizing where it was in town. Once in the car, he started to talk himself through what his plan was. Show up, ask why she left, try not to cry in front of her, hope there’s closure, hope she opens the door, hope it doesn’t hurt….

Who was he kidding? This was going to hurt like Hell.

He drove almost mindlessly to his destination. As he rolled to a half at a four-way stop, he re-evaluated. This was crazy. She left. She didn’t want to see him. 

No, he deserved an explanation. She owed him that, at least. 

Gideon’s words echoed back to him. She didn’t love them. Leave it alone. 

With a deep sigh, he flicked on his turn signal and drove onto Nix Lane. Gideon need never know about this. 

His eyes drifted back and forth between the houses until he saw number 845. His nose tugged up at the corners and his mouth parted in disbelief. The yard was dying and the flower boxes and beds were displaying weeds. The concrete walkway to the house was cracked, pushed up in some places, and stained with something that looked mysteriously like blood. Paint peeled from the walls and the door. Tiles were missing from the very faded roof. 

Was this serious? Did he get the wrong address? There was no way Belle would live here. Maybe if she was a crack addict, but his Belle? His sweet Belle that made sure not a speck of dust would ever grace her precious books? No way.   
He parallel parked, not caring that he was in front of the mailbox, and got out.

As he nervously made his way to the front door, he saw one of the curtains swish closed. Somebody had been watching him. 

He noticed his hands were shaking as he raised one fist, lightly knocking with his knuckles. There was shuffling inside. He hoped it was Belle, even if this house was awful. He clasped his unstable hands together in front of him. Then he realized that was probably more intimidating than he wanted to be. He shoved them in his pockets, but then he felt too casual. Crossing his arms was also too defensive of a stance, but folding his hands behind his back was too submissive. 

Disgruntled, he took a heavy breath through his nose. The door still hadn’t opened. Swallowing hard, he lifted his hand to knock again when a loud crash came from inside, followed by a short scream. 

He instantly stiffened- Belle?

A couple seconds of quiet worried him.j Had she been hurt? Was she unconscious? Did she need a doctor? Pulling out his cell phone in case of an immediate need for an ambulance, he hesitantly opened the front door. Inside was just as drab as outside, only ten times as dark. A bookcase had toppled over and its contents was strewn across the living room. 

Despite the urge to turn and leave, he crept deeper into the house, his shoes virtually noiseless on the decrepit carpet. Rounding a corner, he found himself in the house’s kitchen. It was also falling apart.

“Please….”

The voice was so small Gold thought that maybe he was imagining things. He turned to the source of the word and felt like the breath was knocked out of him. A hand gently brushed the wall, instinctively steadying himself. Tears began to blur his vision and he reprimanded himself for being to affected by this. 

Belle was crouched behind the stove, eyes wide and scared. She hadn’t changed in 28 years. The same gorgeous blue eyes, the same fair skin, the same deep brown hair. In fact, the only thing he could see was different from the last time he saw her was her clothing choice. 

He opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t want to royally screw this up like he must have when she left, so he stayed quiet. 

An eternity passed, the only sound whirring from the mysteriously unseen water heater. After Gold figured he had calculated an appropriate approach he opened his mouth again, but she cut him off. 

“Please don’t make me go!” Halfway through the outburst she jumped up and sprinted to a room by the dining table. 

Gold blinked, “Go where?”

The only answer was a locking deadbolt. He went to the closed door; now that there was barrier to keep the space he felt he could speak freely.

“Belle, I just need to know why,” he started to cry again, “know why you left.”

“How do you know my name?” Belle’s voice was muffled by the door, “Who are you? Go away!”

His heart twinged, but he didn’t move. She must have gotten amnesia. That was it; she didn’t remember him and she didn’t come home that day because she lost her memory. Without his consent, a glimmer of hope nuzzled its way into his mind. 

“Belle, it’s me,” he said softly, “you e- your husband.” He had started to say ex-husband, but they had never actually gotten divorced. 

“I’m not married,” she sounded confused, “go away!”

“Belle, please listen to me.”

“No! N-now I’m perfectly content with my life here. Fiona w-was nice enough to give me this house and bring me food and clothes and she said not to talk to strangers; not that I would want to anyway. S-so I’m asking you to please go away!”

“Fiona?” Gold said. No response, so he tried again, “Did you say Fiona?”

A tiny “yes” made its way through the door. 

Gold’s face hardened, his lip curling into a snarl. Whatever that witch had done to Belle, he was going to make her pay.


	7. Rumbelle... sort of.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ripperblackstaff said to writing-crocodiles:
> 
> Belle wants a tattoo and a piercing

“You know, Jefferson,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, “I hate everything you just said.” They were standing in the small INKED Tattoo Parlor. It was the only one in Storybrooke and that day it was virtually empty; clearly not many people want tattoos. 

Jefferson ignored him, still shopping for designs on the mounted picture sheets. When he had walked in, he went straight to the ones that depicted animals. It was a stuffed bunny he was fancying- one that reminded him of Grace. After decided a spot to put it, probably on his calf, he pointed at it with a slender finger. 

“I think I’m going to do that one,” he said, looking back to Rumple, “what do you think?”

The intense, murderous look of I-couldn’t-care-less gave Jefferson all the answer he needed. That one it was, then. Moving his line of sight to the higher rows of tattoos, he continued to try and soften Rumple’s feelings towards the idea. 

After all, he was the one who chose the terms of the bet, he shouldn’t really be complaining. 

“What do you want to get?” He asked it lightly, trying to find something to fit the very stoic Mr. Gold. Of course, it he was being realistic, none of it did, but he had to try, “What about the gecko, huh? You could get it on your shoulder or something.”

A scoff came from Rumple, “You aren’t seriously going to make me do this, are you?”

Jefferson only half-heartedly pretended to be shocked (he was still going over the tattoo options), “Backing out of our bet?”

“No, I just didn’t think this would be what I was going to be forced to do.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t have taken the bet if you had known?” Jefferson teased, turning to Rumple and putting his hands on his knees like he was talking to a dog. 

“Och, don’t start,” Rumple protested. As his comrade went back, yet again, to the tattoo wall, he surveyed the rest of the parlor. It was small with salt-and-pepper tile floors and heavy metal posters hanging on the horrid orange walls. A curtain (displaying skulls) was the partitioner between front and back. A soft buzzing floated out to the front of the parlor and Rumple knew some poor soul was getting something he was going to regret down his back. He pictured something like a tiger and a unicorn fighting on Mount Everest and involuntarily shuddered.

The buzzing stopped. A girl with black hair the consistency of straw and more piercings than sense walked into the open. She was followed by a man with a bandage on his forearm. The man looked happy enough, and even gave Rumple a small wave. 

Rumple nodded back curtly, stepping to the side to give him easier access to the door. A voice was screaming at him to run, but he shoved it down. This was incredibly stupid, but Jefferson would never let him live peacefully if he left. 

He would just have to put it somewhere that Belle would never see it. 

The internal screaming continued. 

That was pretty much impossible.

“Alright, boys,” the girl said, “do you know what you want?”

“I do,” Jefferson said, stepping forward, “What about you?”

“I think I’ll think some more.” Rumple said it quickly, but not fast enough that Jefferson could mock him for being skittish. 

“Okay, then we can do you first,” the girl said, smiling at Jefferson, “that’ll give your friend some time.”

She led the way into the back room, Jefferson giving Rumple a look with raised eyebrows. Almost as if on cue, the entrance opened the second the curtain swished closed. Rumple was disinterested in who it was, but turned to look anyway. It was more so he could see what lunatic would come into the shadiest building in town. Upon seeing the person before him he felt like he was drugged with some sort of hallucinogenic. 

“Belle?”

She looked about just as confused as her husband and she tilted her head to the side, “Rumple? What are you doing here?”

“I could almost ask the same of you, sweetheart,” he said, folding his hands together in front of him. 

“I’m getting a tattoo,” Belle said, lifting her chin and squaring her jaw. 

Rumple’s lips curled into a smile, “You are?”

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious.” She said defiantly, “Well what are you doing here, anyway?”

“Getting a tattoo,” he answered, still grinning like an idiot.

She jerked back a bit, “You are?”

He put on her tone, “Don’t laugh, I’m serious.”

They both found themselves giggling then; she walked forward and grabbed his hands, giving them a comforting squeeze. 

“Sooo, uh… what design are you going to get?”

He still found this weird, like he was floating in a personal limbo. Belle with a tattoo? Belle okay with him getting a tattoo? Belle not getting suspicious as to why he would want a tattoo? His mind was swimming in the strangeness of it all. 

Then he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, this one was just so weird for me. What’s the best thing to do everything feels strange and completely OOC? Make it a dream.


	8. Gold Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stitcheskitty posted- 
> 
> Rumbelle Family Writing Prompt  
> Storybrooke gets a new community center with a pool. Belle and Rumple sign up Gideon for swimming lessons. The only way to get Gideon to swim is for Rumple get into the water with him.

The second Gideon’s feet touched the water he started screaming and a quite flustered Belle pulled him back up again, setting him on her hip. Storybrooke’s indoor community pool had advertised for toddler swimming lessons and she had jumped at the opportunity to sign him up. Even though she was excited, her husband had held back. When she had questioned why, he had narrowed his eyes at her.

“You don’t have bath duty, Belle,” he said, “He’s terrified of water.” 

“Then that’s even more of a reason to sign him up,” she had snapped back.

“To torture him?”

“No, to make him get over his fear.”

“He’s a toddler, Belle!”

This had led to a very lengthy argument that allowed their son time unsupervised to make the living room a complete mess and they both cleaned up the toys in a stewing silence. The next day, she went out and bought a pretty blue bikini for herself and small swimming trunks for Gideon. Rumple had not been happy. As she recalled the memory she looked to where Rumple sat at the poolside. Although it was humid in the large room, he was still wearing his three-piece suit and had not bothered to take off his over coat. It was fanned out, draping gracefully over the sides of the plastic lounge chair. His hands were folded over his stomach and his eyes, which Belle knew were observing her fail, were hidden behind round sunglasses. 

Gideon was staring at the water, his imagination running wild. Sharks, water serpents, those nymphs Mama had read him a story about, and mermaids. Anything could be hiding in that deceptively clear water, and the toddler wasn’t having it. 

Ready for another try, Belle lowered herself to the concrete pool side, letting her legs dip into the water. She shifted Gideon so he was on her lap. His brown eyes, ones identical to those she could feel watching her from the plastic chair. 

“Alright, Gideon,” Belle said softly, “let’s try this again.” Gideon, who thought his mother would have gotten the message from his previous scream, was very surprised when he suddenly found the lower half of his body submerged in water. 

“No!” He said the word like he was on fire, provoking several strange looks from other people in the pool. Belle brought him back to her lap, hugging him to her, but Gideon knew she was just going to try and do it again, so he struggled against her. 

“No,” he said again, this time with more of a whine. 

“Gideon,” his mother’s voice held a warning, “your swimming lessons start tomorrow, you have-” 

This was new information to the toddler, and not news he liked. Swimming lessons? Did this woman not understand him at all? 

With this inner-monologue, he squirmed harder and was able to slip under her arm and away. He was very aware of his mother chasing him, but somehow he managed to stay ahead. 

Rumple saw this transpire and felt a small smile appear on his lips. He swung his legs to the side of the lounge chair and grabbed Gideon’s towel; he bent down and spread it out just in time for his son to run into it. 

He stood as he picked Gideon up. Belle was close behind, looking like she was ready to fight someone. Rumple kissed his son on the head and the toddler wrapped his arms around his papa’s neck. 

“He’s scared of the water, Belle,” Rumple said, voice low and husky, “don’t push it on him.”

Belle, however, had an idea. She moved into him, sliding an arm around her husband’s waist and setting her head gently on his shoulder. She was face to face with her son, whose head was on the other shoulder, and she smiled. She raised a hand and stroked his soft hair. 

“Sweetheart,” she said, “would you get in the pool if Papa got in with you?”

She felt Rumple’s whole body go rigid. He was silently praying to whatever deity would listen that his son didn’t like this idea. However, Gideon didn’t hear this prayer and he nodded vigorously, a giant smile stretching his small features. 

Mama didn’t any magic, but Papa did. Papa would protect him from the serpents, mermaids, nymphs, what have you….

A grin spread across Belle’s face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Gideon said with so much enthusiasm that Rumple knew his fate had just been sealed. 

“Belle, there are people here,” he said, trying to free himself.

“So?”

The corner of Rumple’s nose twitched, “So, no one wants to see me in swim trunks.”

Belle bit her bottom lip and rose onto her tiptoes, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek, “I do.”

He looked from his wife, who was displaying oddly hungry eyes, to his son, who looked like he was in pain from watching his parents’ affection. Under both of their gazes he melted. 

“Alright,” he sighed, “Let’s go buy me a swim suit.”


End file.
